Monthly Archives: March 2006

Wherein I have an epiphany and paradigm

The other day, it suddenly occured to me that one does not need to have any writing talent whatsoever to be a blogger. Practically any moron with a keyboard can post up pics and mindless drivel, and I can do that at least as well as any other talentless hack.

So, I’ll keep the blog going.

Among the many uninteresting things I’d been meaning to blog about:

  • Before the house burnt down, Amy stole my pillow. She had started the night at my side, between me and the wall. At some point, she crawled over me, moving between me and Becky. I scooted over, half-asleep, eyes barely open. As a motorcyclist, we are trained to look where we want to go, and I looked at the pillow where I wanted to place my head. However, just before touchdown, the pillow suddenly zipped away, and a tiny, tired voice behind me declared, “My pillow!”
  • Kim flew out here yesterday, to help with the move. All day long as we worked, we discussed things we could blog about. Anything even remotely interesting or humorous was nominated for a post. She showed me her hand, and after we were done working, I used her new camera to take a series of photos of her washing it for the first time with the big flap of skin removed. After dinner, we played Settlers of Catan, and Kim cleanly whomped me and Becky, although she tried to cheat her way into the largest army in order to do so. CAUGHT!!!
  • I am certain that there were many other things I was going to write about, but they seem to have slipped my mind at the moment. So, I’d just like to mention that Scott Adam’s blog is a consistently good read.

So there you have it. Sub-par narrative and barely-there grammar for your almost daily enjoyment.

Wherein we conclusively win the attention game

So, Wednesday morning, 3/8, I left for work, and Becky took the kids to run some errands. She got home around noon, and discovered a bunch of fire trucks huddled around our appartment building. Worry turned to whatever is worse-feeling than whatever else you feel when driving home to a gaggle of firetrucks, and we eventually learned that the kids’ room had suffered and electrical fire!

In the picture, the hole was knocked in by the firemen. The electrical outlet in the hole had sparked up somehow, and caught something on fire. Eventually, the entire room burnt, filling the house with smoke, until the window blew out, releasing the smoke.

At that point, a passer-by saw the smoke, came over, started fighting the fire with our garden hose, and had a neighbor call the fire department.

The FD got there, knocked down our nieghbor’s door, then came over and knocked down ours, and finished putting out the fire.

So, long story short – the kids’ room was completely burnt out, and the rest of the home filled with smoke. Almost everything has a layer of sticky soot on it, except for most of my clothes, because I kept them in a protective pile on the floor.

Yes, stop, drop, and roll applies even to household goods.

This pic is looking out of the bedroom into the hall, at the last remnants of our brave little smoke alarm. It hung on, apparently screaming for all it was worth, until it finally tried to leave for reinforcements.

We found its melted little corpse on the rug below.

RIP smoke alarm.

Wherein I come clean

OK, it’s time for me to admit that I’m not much of a writer. I’ve been reading various columinsts for years, reading books, and so on. In my earlier years, I wrote some poetry, and some really bad prose. I can spell almost any word I can think of, and have better grammar than many of the people who post in online forums.

I’d been hoping I could suddenly bust out and become a writer, maybe start a column and be syndicated or something. But, I don’t have a favorite subject to write about. And what’s worse, I don’t easily just come up with new things to write about. It’s really hard to become the next Ray Orrock when I can’t think of anything long enough to write it down, much less flesh it out into a miniscule blog post, much less a syndicated column.

I debated carrying around a little notepad and writing down ideas to write about when they pop in my head, except that requires pockets for pencil and pad, and I only think up things to write about when I’m on my motorcycle, and I can’t easily write an idea down, while riding down the interstate.

So, I figured I might as well delete my silly little blog, and go on to more constructive endeavors.

But, since I have nothing better to do, it’s as easy to leave up as pull down, so que sera sera.